


Sherlock Holmes, Kid Detective

by blueboxonbakerstreet



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Kid!Lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxonbakerstreet/pseuds/blueboxonbakerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a freak accident occurs and Sherlock is turned into a kid, John and Sherlock have to figure out a way to get him back or be stuck with a five-year old Sherlock for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock had been hard at work all day in the makeshift laboratory in 221B’s kitchen on a chemical that would theoretically reverse the aging process a significant amount. He hadn’t wanted to risk going to Bart’s- the potential for distraction was too high and even a small slip of his hand could bring disastrous results. Sherlock was just adding the final compound to the beaker when the slam of a door sounded from downstairs, signifying John’s return. His concentration shattered, he added too many drops of the liquid into the mixture, causing it to explode and splatter all over the consulting detective. He blacked out momentarily, finally coming to on the floor, head aching and swimming in…clothes? He sat up with a small struggle, his head fuzzy. Everything seemed too big. Despite himself, he let out a pained cry, flinching at the sound. It was small and high pitched…childish, almost. He fought to regain control of his mind again, attempting to push away the pounding in his head that could have only come from hitting the floor. Just then, he heard footsteps on the stairs- rushed, pounding strides that could only belong to the army doctor.

“Sherlock?” John called as he entered the sitting room, looking around. “Sherlock, are you alright? I heard an explosion.” Receiving no response, he shed his coat and hung it on the rack before heading to the kitchen in order to make himself a well-deserved cuppa. When he reached the kitchen, however, the sight that greeted him caused him to jump backwards, stumbling into his armchair. “S-Sherlock!” He called, aiming his voice at the detective’s bedroom. On the floor, Sherlock turned to John, staring at him with wide eyes. It was then that the situation hit him full on.

“John!” He squeaked, scrambling to his feet. Unfortunately, as his clothing was now several sizes too big, Sherlock got caught in the material of his shirt and fell back to the ground, landing on his bum with a loud thud. Sherlock’s eyes watered from the impact and he suppressed another cry by squeezing his eyes shut and hoping this was all a hallucination. John didn’t waste any time rushing to the boy’s aid as soon as he hit the ground, scooping him up in his arms, baggy clothing and all.

“There, there. Are you hurt? Are you alright?” John soothed, bouncing Sherlock lightly and rubbing his back in small circular motions. He had always prided himself in his ability to get children to like him and this strange, misplaced child was no different. Sherlock immediately curled up against John, keeping his eyes shut and allowing himself to be calmed, if only for a moment. His mind was still racing in a peculiar way and the conclusion it had drawn seemed impossible. “There you go.” John said calmly, moving to sit in his armchair and shifting the small boy so that he was seated in John’s lap. “Now, can you tell me your-” John stopped short as he looked at the toddler. He knew that face. Those eyes. That hair.  
“Yes,” Sherlock said miserably, looking up at John and seeming to read his thoughts. “It’s me. Sherlock.” He sighed and looked down, waiting for the laughter that never came.

“You’re…you’re a kid!” John exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers. “How- I mean- just how did you even-”

“It was an experiment,” Sherlock explained, not making eye contact with John. “I got distracted and…” He looked up sharply, his eyes shining with realization. “You!” He shrieked, pointing a chubby finger at John. “You slammed the door! You distracted me!” John looked at him in disbelief.

“How was I supposed to know you were trying to turn yourself into a kid?” He asked incredulously, putting a hand up in defense. “It’s not exactly a regular thing!”

Sherlock glared, crossing his arms and pouting, wracking his brains for a solution, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of giggling. Sherlock glanced up at John who was wearing a sly smile on his face and trying to avoid Sherlock’s gaze.

“What?” Sherlock asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” John chuckled. “It’s just…you look so cute. I mean, like this. You look adorable with your arms crossed and that silly pout-”

“I’m not adorable,” Sherlock said through clenched teeth. “I’m five bloody years old and-”

“Language!” John gasped in mock surprise. He shook his head at Sherlock’s death glare and suppressed his grin. “Okay, sorry. How do we reverse this then?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock replied after a long pause. “This is…well, it’s unexpected. I didn’t think-…it shouldn’t have had this much of a physical or emotional effect.”

“Emotional?” John questioned, furrowing his brow.

“Yes, emotional. When I hit the floor I had a strong urge to cry, something that is normally- what?” Sherlock was interrupted by an eruption of giggles from John.

“Sorry! You’re just so small, but you still talk like an adult. Honestly, Sherlock, it’s kind of funny.” John shrugged. Sherlock huffed and slid off John’s lap, wearing his adult-sized button-up like a dress. “Are you going to parade around in that all day?” John asked, standing and looking down at Sherlock, a thing he’s never thought he’d be able to say. Sherlock looked down at his outfit, noticing the predicament for the first time.

“Oh.” He said shortly. “Well, erm…I suppose not.”

“This is a long shot, so don’t get angry at me for asking, but do you have any children’s clothing?”

Sherlock thought for a moment before starting towards his room, John trailing behind him.

“There was this one case, before I moved in here,” He started as they entered Sherlock’s room. “I needed all sorts of children’s items. I might still have them.” Sherlock padded over to his closet and opened the door, pointing to a cardboard box on the top shelf labeled ‘S. Holmes’. “Take that one down. They’re in that one.” John complied, lifting the heavy box down and setting it on the ground in front of Sherlock who promptly opened it, revealing its brightly-coloured contents. “Aha.”

“What about this one?” John lifted a mustard-yellow tee shirt out of the box, along with a pair of jeans, a pair of pants, and a roll of tiny socks.

“I suppose.” Sherlock grimaced, grabbing them and walking to the bathroom to change. A few minutes later, he emerged, fully clothed with a large frown. “I hate them. I hate this.” He groaned, crossing his arms across his chest. John grinned at him.

“You look fine, Sherlock. Now, what can we do to get you back to normal?”


	2. Chapter Two

Sherlock thought hard, furrowing his brow. 

“Erm,” He started in his newly high-pitched sounding voice. “I…I didn’t account for this in my calculations, but if I were to look in my notebook…” He dashed out of the room and into the kitchen, scrambling onto a kitchen chair. John followed him curiously, his heart skipping a beat as he heard the small boy gasp in horror. 

“What? Sherlock, what is it?” John asked wildly, following Sherlock’s gaze. Lying on the table, soaked in green liquid, was Sherlock’s black, trademark Molskine notebook. The chemical spilled on it seemed to be an acid of some sort, as it had already eaten its way through the top few pages of the small book. 

“My…my notebook!” He cried, hot tears springing to his eyes. “It must’ve gotten spilled on in…in the… explosion.” 

John watched Sherlock’s face closely, genuinely shocked to see the bright eyes he knew so well sparkling with tears. “Sherlock?” He said warily. “Are you-”

“All of my notes! Gone!” Sherlock cried, tears starting to run down his pale, chubby cheeks. “Unrecoverable!” 

“Oh, god,” John murmured, swiftly moving to Sherlock’s side. He scooped up boy-sized version of his flatmate, surprised at how light he was. “Please don’t cry, Sherlock, it’s alright.” Sherlock stayed limp in John’s arms which was another unexpected occurrence. Even as John was heading to Sherlock initially, he expected some sort of struggle to occur. Instead, Sherlock let himself be held against John’s chest, his small frame shaking with quiet sobs. 

“R-ruined!” He sniffed, his voice muffled by John’s jumper. 

“Come on, now,” John said quietly. “It’s not all ruined. I’m sure there’s something we could salvage.” 

Sherlock curled against John and sniffed loudly. “No we can’t. It’s ruined.” 

John was silent, as he didn’t quite know what to say. This all happened so fast. Hardly an hour ago, he’d left his adult flatmate in the kitchen while John ran to Tesco to restock the fridge and he returned to a toddler-version of the man. 

“Didn’t you back your information up somewhere?” John asked timidly, not wanting to set Sherlock off again. Sherlock moved his face away from John’s chest suddenly, his eyes wide and hopeful. 

“Yes! In…in the lab at Bart’s!” He exclaimed, worming his way out of John’s arms and onto the floor. “Come on! We have to go!” Sherlock raced out of the room and into his own, grabbing a pair of loafers from the box and slipping them on his feet. They were a bit too big, but they’d do. Rushing back into the sitting room, he found John putting on his jacket and shoes as well. “Come on, John! Faster! Let’s go!” Sherlock shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“I’m going, I’m going.” John mumbled, putting his arm into the jacket and holding the door open for his pint-sized friend. “When you said the…experiment affected your emotional state-“

“Yes, I know. More energy.” Sherlock called over his shoulder, hopping down the steps. John followed him, choosing to ignore the fit of tears he’d witnessed only minutes before. As they stepped onto the pavement, Sherlock rushed towards the street in an attempt to call a cab. John, however, stopped him short, pulling on his arm. 

“No, no. You’re five, remember? No cab is going to stop for a kid.” John told him, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t run off, I don’t fancy getting a call from LCB, hm?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, wrenching his arm from John’s grasp and instead taking him by the hand. “If we’re going to go in public…you’re going to have to act as my father, I suppose.” He said grudgingly. 

“Ah. Okay. That’s…that’s alright.” John nodded before turning his attention back to the street. Within a few minutes, the two were safely inside a cab, heading to St. Bartholomew’s hospital. “Sherlock, buckle your belt.” John instructed, glancing over at the small consulting detective, scowling at the seat in front of him. 

“No.” Sherlock huffed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning on the door beside him. He was too short to properly see out the window, something that made him increasingly eager to arrive at their destination. 

“You should listen to your dad, laddie,” The cabbie called back to Sherlock. “He knows best.” 

John gave Sherlock a smug smile, raising his eyebrows. With a frustrated growl, Sherlock buckled his seat belt, not meeting John’s gaze for the rest of the short ride. When they reached the hospital, Sherlock was out of the car in a flash, standing on the sidewalk, waiting for John rather impatiently.   
“Thanks, mate,” He sighed to the cabbie as he handed him a few notes. “He never listens to me.”

“No problem,” The man chuckled. “Kids, eh?” 

Sherlock cleared his throat loudly from the walk and John obliged, moving to him and taking his hand. 

“We’ve got more important things to do than talk to stupid cab drivers.” Sherlock told him in an angry tone. “You know…like getting me back to the size of an adult?” 

“Yeah, I know,” John rolled his eyes, holding the door open for Sherlock. “By the way, they’re never going to let you in the labs looking like this? Do you even have a plan?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sherlock said confidently, striding into the building. “Of course I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a little longer than I anticipated... Any suggestions are appreciated and welcomed! :) Be excited-- Molly Hooper in the next chapter!!   
> Thank you for reading! I love you all more than John loves jam.

**Author's Note:**

> For isidewiththeangels-butiamnotone 
> 
> Hope you like it, girl! :)


End file.
